


Bleeding Onto Parchment

by Shadow_Ember



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family Issues, Poet!Credence, Poetry, disclaimer: none of the tagged relationships are romantic/sexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Ember/pseuds/Shadow_Ember
Summary: Credence Barebone has been dying, bleeding all of his life. It spills, onto parchment and paper, as a testament to the monster inside him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Saw Fantastic Beasts and I absolutely love Credence. I had to start writing something about it. 
> 
> I do not own Fantastic Beasts, or the Harry Potter universe. All rights go to J.K. Rowling.

_“Oliver Twist, Oliver Twist,_

_Where did your family go?_

_-He’s on that side of the pot, rationing out thin stew-_

_Oliver Twist, Oliver Twist,_

_When did you grow so tall?_

_-Many years ago, awkward gangly spider limbs in black-_

_Oliver Twist, Oliver Twist,_

_Why does Mama beat you?_

_-Because he is wicked, the witch runs through his blood-_

_Oliver Twist, Oliver Twist,_

_When did you turn into a demon?_

_-Many years ago, belt straps that shaped and scarred-”_

_-C.B._


	2. The First Poem

     Credence could not remember when it started. He could not remember when he first scribbled on paper shameful thoughts and crumpled them in his hand to hide them from his mother. She had found them, not a week later, under his pillow, nestled with a few other trinkets he had collected: a button, a newspaper clipping, and two feathers. 

     Mary Lou Barebone ignored the collected treasures and had stared at the offending piece of paper as if it had been ripped straight out of the Bible. Credence supposed it had; ripped from the back of an anti-witch pamphlet, an act of sacrilege unforgiveable. “What does this say?” she had demanded of him in that quiet tone of hers that rattled his bones harder than anger ever did. The slip of paper was thrust in his face.

            He had taken the paper with trembling fingers, almost not daring to read aloud, but not daring to disobey. His voice was small and hushed.

            “ _It hurts sometimes._

_Ma says God loves me,_

_But it hurts,_

_When she does it,_

_For Him.”_  

            He barely remembered writing those words. Reverently whispering them to himself like a prayer, one that neither soothed nor comforted, just one that carried the bitter truth. It was a simple mantra to soothe his soul and clear his mind. Now, the words felt like a spell. An incantation to call about the worst forms of evil, even the Devil himself, into his life.

            His mother was astutely aware of the evil that it was, and before Credence could attempt to stammer an explanation she had silently sent him upstairs without a word. It was the first time she beat his hands that night; finding sweet justice in cracking wounds into pale flesh that had caused such a sin. A punishment to make sure he never picked up a pen again, if he knew what was good for him. Credence tried to be a good boy, but inside he yawned open, empty, and crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, sooooooo sorry for taking so long on this chapter! I was swamped by finals this semester, and then all week I've been deathly ill with a fever and sore throat. So while I thought it would be a good time for me to get writing done, my brain was absolutely fried and couldn't concentrate on anything. Welp.   
> Anyways, I hope updates will become a little more regular over this winter break, I might gain some steady momentum on this story after Christmas. Thank you so much for reading! Happy Holidays!


	3. Ma's Perfect Little Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? Whaaaaat? 
> 
> Yeah, I don't know how this is done so early, just take it. Enjoy it. Think of it as a late Christmas present. Hope you like it!

            It was a long time before Credence dared to pick up a pen again. His mind flitted about and itched to turn some of his thoughts into reality; written when they could not be spoken. However, his mother was strict, and he knew better than to defy her so easily. It was self-preservation that led him to be a good boy. For a time, his mother grew proud of his actions: praying studiously several times a day, reading Scripture to the children, passing out more pamphlets than Chastity did. He was trying to live up to her expectations, to be the man of the house she wished him to be. It worked for a while, until it was not enough.

            Mary Lou Barebone’s sermons had been met with increasing hostility. People stopped caring about witches and magic, believing it to be a fairytale that did not belong in the modern age. His mother pleaded with them to see the truth, but their blind arrogance made her angry. “The sinners will burn in Hell,” she would say to Credence and Chastity, and they would say it back with perfect obedience.

            She took her preaching from fellow churchgoers to any person who would listen. The Barebone family became a common phenomenon, rain or shine, on street corners, proclaiming God’s will to the masses. It garnered attention. Most were just news reporters, hoping to get the hit story, but then came along a few angry faces. Jaded, tired eyes that rebutted his mother and her anti-witch views. “How bad could witches possibly be?” they said, “If they were so dangerous the world would be in ruin by now.”

            His mother grew irate. She would shout and yell at them, bordering on hysterical. Once, when there was a particularly nasty spectator, she pushed through the crowd with mad intention. Credence had seen the look on her face many times, and pulled her back before he could think against it. “Ma, it’s not your place!” he tried reasoning, “The Lord will deal with non-believers.” She spun on him with the full intention of slapping his face, but the presence of onlookers caused her to compose herself and lift her chin up high. “Come along, children,” she said, and they followed her like little ducklings.

            The slap came once barred inside their home’s walls. Credence tried not to cower. “How dare you go against me in public,” she gritted out. The wooden spoon left out on the table found its way into her hands and Credence cringed with each strike that made contact with his skin.

            She was harsh and brutal, more so than normal. Credence could not wonder if she was taking out her frustrations with the masses on him or if it was own mistakes because the pain was the only thing that sang through his thoughts. Chastity was nowhere to be found, just like she always was when Credence was beaten. Had better things to do, and soon so did Mary Lou, leading her to place the spoon gingerly back on the table and proceed to her sewing without another word.

            Credence scrambled to his feet slowly and helplessly. The last beating had been so long ago; he had tried to be good and obedient. Ma’s perfect little boy – red and blistered to hide the ugliness of his sins.

            Tears sprung to his eyes. It was an attempt to dissuade the flood that led to him crying through words, with black ink spilling onto willing paper. Credence could not remember what he wrote; it was too late until he realized the paper was soaked through with salty tears. The ink ran and swirled into unintelligible smudges, like wisps of charcoal smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I always write sad things? Will I ever make Credence happy? Hopefully. If I have my way, it will happen. He needs a hug and some ice cream.


End file.
